


Paper Hearts

by Kwixi



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 新ムーミン | Shin Moomin (Anime 1972), 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Cat Snufkin rights, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, No beta we die like mumriks, Sassy book, Sniff is not bright okay, Snufkin has a tail and paws, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 19:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kwixi/pseuds/Kwixi
Summary: After a restless winter, Moomin needs some time to sort out his feelings. After taking some advice from a book, he decides that writing them down before speaking them aloud is the best course of action. After all, it's not like anyone but him will ever see the letters, right?





	Paper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I thought it would make a cute, fluffy one-shot, so here we are.

Spring in Moomin Valley is a joyous time for many creatures. It was the end of hibernation, the time for new beginnings. It was also the time when the young Moomintroll’s best friend returned from his travels, and the delighted troll’s shout of greeting would echo through the valley as they embraced. Everyone in Moomin Valley knew that Moomin would be waiting on the bridge from the moment he woke up.

When the bridge was still empty by midday, there were whispers around the valley. Had Moomin fallen ill? Had his friend sent word that he wasn’t coming? Little My was irritated by all the gossip. Nobody at Mrs. Fillyjonk’s ‘Spring Social’ lunch party had even noticed that she had put paint on the tea kettle, turning everyone’s paws a very garish shade of orange. It was a brilliant prank and now she was going to have to do it all over again! Seething with annoyance, she headed back to Moominhouse to demand answers from Moomin himself.

Upon entering the house, she immediately noticed that it was devoid of any sounds other than the usual creaks and groans of an old house. By now, if he wasn’t outside waiting for Snufkin, he was wailing and sighing loudly for all to hear. Her mouth twitched downward at the corner as she headed up the stairs. He had better not be sick! If he was, then Moominmamma would be making soup for dinner, and Little My did not want soup. That was absolutely the only reason she had to worry.

The door was ajar, surprisingly. It was usually shut, mostly to keep Little My out when he didn’t want her company. Peering inside, she huffed in annoyance at the sight of an empty bed. He must have climbed down the ladder before the rest of them had woken up this morning. She stomped back down the stairs with her arms crossed. After a moment, the front door opened. Moominmamma and Moominpappa walked inside, having had enough of Mrs. Fillyjonk’s party. One could only take so much of plastic-covered furniture and someone mopping after every step you took.

“You look troubled, Little My,” Moominpappa said as he sat down the empty pie tin from the dessert Moominmamma had brought with them.

“I’m not troubled,” Little My scowled as she hopped up onto the table. “I’m frustrated! I thought today was going to be fun and he ruined it.”

“Who?” Moominpappa asked with a puzzled expression. He couldn’t think of a single soul who had even spoken to Little My.

“There’s no need to be worried about him, My,” Moominmamma hummed as she brushed the crumbs from the tin off the table and into the trash.

“I am not worried!” Little My huffed, offended by the very suggestion.

“About what?” Moominpappa sat down at the table, looking between them.

“Moomintroll is fine,” Moominmamma continued as she tidied up the kitchen. Perhaps Little My was reading too much into it, but it almost looked as if Moominmamma was just as worried. Normally when she cleaned, her face was serene, and she would hum softly. Today, her brow was furrowed, and her mouth was almost drawn down on one side. Almost.  
“He just needed some time to himself is all,” she added. As Little My glanced at the door, Moominmamma put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be home for supper.”

                                                           +++++++++++++++++

Moomin did indeed need some time to himself. This past winter had been a very productive one, though it wasn’t exactly pleasant. He put down his pencil and leaned against the tree he was sitting under, thinking back to the reason he was here.

_He had woken up sporadically, for seemingly no reason. He had tossed and turned, tried covering his head with a pillow, and he had even tried running up and down the stairs to tire himself out. Nothing would put him to sleep for more than a few days. He had almost resigned himself to not hibernating at all before he remembered Grandmother’s journals._

_He made his way to the kitchen, hand hovering over the shelf full of old, dusty books. He hesitated before stopping at the one with the splotchy red cover. This one had been used many times over the years, and it showed. It had been mended more times than he could count. Great Grandma Moomin’s Potion Recipes. Did he really need this? He didn’t feel particularly ill. But something had to be wrong with him if he couldn’t hibernate properly!_

_Grabbing the book, he walked back up the stairs and to his bedroom, pausing by the window. The snow was not near as high as it had been during the last winter. He could look out and appreciate the way the moonlight seemed to dance upon the ground. Again, he felt a small twinge of bitterness that they had to miss the snow every year. Shaking his head, he looked back at the book and laid it on his desk._

_“Okay,” he sighed. “Come on, Great Grandma Moomin. You have to have some answers,” he muttered. Flipping through the table of contents, he pouted. “Moominpox? No. Not invisible either,” he leaned back in his chair, blinking blearily at the ceiling. It felt hopeless._

_Reaching to slam the book closed, he had been startled by his window suddenly snapping open, letting in a frigid breeze. “Oh! I thought I reinforced you with Pappa,” he complained as he pulled it tightly shut again, locking it tight. He felt wide awake now, shivering down to the tip of his tail. He grabbed his blanket off of the bed wrapped it around himself. Perfect. Just how he wanted to spend his winter._

_He had almost given up and gone back to bed when he noticed that the book was open to a different page. Furrowing his brow, he leaned closer to read it._

_**Can’t sleep during hibernation?** _

_“No, I can’t!” he answered, eyes eagerly darting down the page for an answer. There were several ailments listed, but none of them seemed to fit. He wasn’t hungry or itchy, and he certainly didn’t have blue spots all over him! The last thing on the list made him frown. “Overthinking,” he read aloud. “That’s not an ailment!”_  
_Still, he found himself reading on._

_**Sometimes the answer isn’t in the form of a potion or magic words. It’s within yourself.** _

_He rolled his eyes._

_**Don’t you roll your eyes at me.** _

_“Sorry,” he squeaked._

_**If it wasn’t true, I wouldn’t write it down. As with curing invisibility, the key is listening; only this time, it’s to yourself. Think about what happened just before hibernation. Has someone upset you? Have you upset someone else? Have you left something unsaid?** _

_“No,” he said quickly, but it sounded unsure and weak. Swallowing hard, he looked away from the book, eyes finding two picture frames._

_The first one was tipped over, golden frame barely showing from this angle. He didn’t need it to be sitting upright to know who was in it. Snorkmaiden had given him that picture years ago and it had been by his bedside ever since. The second was in a hand-carved frame he made himself. The picture inside was of him and Snufkin, sitting on the bridge, smiles soft and lazy in the summer sun._

_“Okay, fine,” he grumbled in defeat. If books could look smug, this book was definitely smug. “Just tell me how to fix it.” He scanned the rest of the page and flipped to the next. “You’ve got to be joking!” he crossed his arms. “Talking is the cure? How am I supposed to do that?” he demanded. “Snorkmaiden is asleep, and Snufkin is—somewhere else!”_  
_Not wanting to look at the book anymore, he shoved it away. As it fell to the floor, he realized he had used a little more force than necessary and quickly bent down to pick it up. Once again, it had flipped to a different page._

_**Letters from the Heart.** _

_“Oh,” he blinked, picking the book up to examine it once more._

  
“Letters from the heart,” he muttered as he crumpled up another piece of paper. They sounded good in theory. Thinking of a person and writing down your feelings about them felt cathartic, in a way. It was also terrible nerve-wracking to know that he was actually going to have to say these words to Snorkmaiden. He didn’t want to break her heart, but there was no other choice.

                                                         +++++++++++++++++

Little My was tired of waiting. It was incredibly boring around the house without Moomin, as much as she hated to admit it. Moominmamma was busy working on dinner, and Moominpappa was in his study. The last thing she wanted was to go up there and get stuck listening to one of his long-winded stories. With a sigh, she walked outside. Surely there must be something to do around here!

Just then, she heard a strange noise and turned to see Sniff rushing past her with a large sack slung over one shoulder. As much as she would rather avoid Sniff’s schemes on any other day, she was bored and curious.  
“Hey!” she called out. “What are you doing?”

Sniff skidded to a halt, sack nearly dropping to the ground. And just when he was picking up speed, too! Didn’t Little My know that running backwards took concentration?

“I’m going to see Moomin!” Sniff answered, setting the sack down to catch his breath for a moment. Whatever was in there must be heavy, thought Little My.

“Moominmamma said—wait, you know where he is?” She demanded, bristling. How dare Moomin tell Sniff of all people!

“Of course I do! He’s sitting under the willow tree by the stream. I do live over there, you know,” he rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, I’m going to tell him about my brilliant plan!”

“And what plan is that?” Little My barely suppressed the urge to kick him in the shins.

Sniff hesitated. “You can’t steal it,” he told her firmly.

“I promise you that I don’t want to.”

“I’ve found a way to make diamonds!”

“Diamonds,” she repeated incredulously.

“Diamonds!” he beamed. “I heard that pressure will turn coal into diamonds. So I grabbed a bunch of rocks! They have to be close enough, right? Moomin can help me polish them! He’s much stronger than I am, so if I split the profits with him, then I’m sure he’ll help.”

“You think—you know what? Nevermind,” she shook her head and hopped down from the railing she had been standing on. Thankfully Moominmamma called her inside, giving her something to do.

Sniff watched her go before picking up the heavy sack once more. “Her loss,” he tutted, heading back toward the stream. Moomin was right where he had been all morning, sitting under the willow with a pencil and a growing pile of wadded up papers. As Sniff approached, Moomin looked up, looking slightly dazed until he realized who it was. He scrubbed a paw over his face, snapping out of it before he leaned back against the tree, already exasperated.

“Moomin!” Sniff greeted cheerfully.

“What is it, Sniff?” he asked tiredly.

“I’ve got the most brilliant plan! I heard—”

“Sniff, I’m a bit busy at the moment.” Busy and thirsty. He sighed, wondering just how long he had been out here. “You can tell me about your plan later. I’m going back home to get some lemonade.”

“But—”

“See you later,” Moomin interrupted, stifling a yawn as he gathered up his crumpled papers and headed home. Three of the crumpled up balls of paper fell from his arms, but he didn’t notice. Sniff jogged after him and picked them up, about to shout for him before realizing Moomin had already made it pretty far ahead. He glanced down at the papers before looking around quickly. Clearly his friend was troubled, and it had to do with these papers. Peeking would really be doing Moomin a favor!

  
                                                         +++++++++++++++++

Little My scowled as she walked along the forest path with two baskets in her hands. Moominmamma has asked her to pick mushrooms for dinner later, and without Moomin, she was stuck carrying both loads. As she reached for a particularly large mushroom, she heard the familiar sound of a harmonica being played in the distance. She dropped the baskets and followed the sound. _If Snufkin is back, then Moomin will have to snap out of it_. Nothing makes him happier.

“You!”

Snufkin stopped in his tracks, but finished the song before he put his harmonica away. He turned his head toward the branch Little My and scurried up to in order to be almost face-to-face with him. The corner of his mouth turned upward in amusement.

“Yes, me,” he chuckled. “What have I done now?”

“I don’t know, but I will find out!”

“What?” Snufkin frowned at that. He hadn’t done anything to offend her as far as he knew. But then again, she was the type to hold a grudge over the smallest thing.

“It’s---” Little My was about to launch into a tirade before a new voice interrupted.

“SNUFKIN!”

“Hello, Sniff,” Sufkin greeted, eye already twitching. This was not how he was accustomed to being welcomed ho—to the valley. He looked over Sniff’s shoulder, hoping to see the familiar white figure bounding toward him with open arms. No such luck. He reluctantly turned his attention back to the panting Sniff before him. “You’re in a hurry today.”  
“It’s Moomintroll!” Sniff wheezed.

“Moomintroll?” Snufkin’s heart leapt to his throat and he nearly bit his pipe in half. His claws, normally sheathed, slid out involuntarily. What had happened to Moomintroll? Was he hurt? He tried to remain calm, but even Little My looked distressed.

“Spit it out already!” Little My practically shrieked.

“It’s horrible!” Sniff wailed.

Snufkin grabbed him and yanked him to eye-level, tail lashing in agitation. “What happened to Moomintroll?” he demanded, voice dangerously close to a growl. Images flashed by in his mind of Sniff and Moomin playing at the beach before Moomin got swept out to sea, or worse. What if there had been a rock slide in the valley? What if he was hurt?

“He’s in love with me!” Sniff cried

Little My was holding an incredibly large stick, raising it to strike when Snufkin held up a paw to stop her. He let go of Sniff, letting him almost drop to the ground.

“Is he now?” Snufkin asked, voice dripping with amusement. His claws retracted as he visibly relaxed. Sniff was always exaggerating things like this. He should have known better than to worry! Moomin probably gave him a flower or something.

“He’s leaving Snorkmaiden for me!” He held up the letter detailing how Moomin intended to break the news. “He wrote me a love letter!” Sniff insisted, holding up another crumpled piece of paper. “Actually, he wrote a bunch. But this one isn’t very good,” he added, producing the final paper. “I suppose he is a very handsome troll, and I am the obvious choice,” he mused. “But I’m not ready to settle down!”

The mumrik felt his heart drop. Love letter? Impossible. While they were friends, Moomin got easily annoyed with Sniff. He didn’t enjoy spending long amounts of time with him, and he was not a fan of his schemes. He had complained about this many times to Snufkin. But what if it was true? What if Moomin was just pretending to be annoyed?

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Little My jumped up and grabbed the first paper, reading it quickly. Her eyes grew wide before she retched, clearly disgusted by whatever mushy, heartfelt message was on the paper. After a moment, she cackled loudly, shoving the paper into Snufkin’s paws. He didn’t want to look. If Little My was disgusted, it must really be a love letter. But Little My wasn’t cruel. Disrespectful and devious on occasion, but not cruel. He looked down at the paper. As he took in the words, the rest of the world fell away.

“—and I don’t even have brownish-ginger fur! Mine is clearly just dark brown,” Sniff continued on his rant. “My eyes are also dark brown! There is no green in them! Plus, If he wanted to come with me on my adventures, it’s not like he couldn’t ask. I don’t go far. It’s like he doesn’t know me at all!” Sniff crossed his arms.

Snufkin felt heat rise to his face. These pages certainly weren’t describing Sniff at all. Sniff didn’t take Moomin stargazing, and he was never away for long periods of time. His stories were all about money, not adventure. He was about to ask why Sniff even thought they were about him, but he wasn’t sure he could speak at all. At the bottom corner, he noticed Moomin’s lack of a signature and the very last line of the letter. Oh.

**_I’m in love with you, Sn_ **

He hadn’t gotten a chance to finish. He cleared his throat, hat tipped down to cover his face more than usual. His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, Sniff. I’ll talk to him,” Snufkin promised.

“You will?” Sniff perked up. “Let him down gently! I know it can’t be easy for him.”

“Of course,” Snufkin nodded, not even looking at him as he headed straight for Moominhouse. Normally, he would stop and set up camp first, but he didn’t dare stop. His harmonica found its way into his hands again, and suddenly he was playing. This was not the tune he had created over the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t happy and sad; it was just happy. Bursting with joy.

                                                            +++++++++++++++++

Moomin had almost fallen asleep at the table with his lemonade when the melody reached his ears. How could he have forgotten? It was the first day of Spring! He jumped up from the table and raced outside, not caring that the pink lemonade had spilled on him a bit.

“Snufkin!” He cried as he made it to the bridge. Somehow, he wasn’t out of breath. He wrapped his arms around his friend and spun him around, perhaps somewhat delirious from lack of sleep as well as overjoyed.

“Moomintroll,” Snufkin nearly dropped his harmonica when Moomin picked him up, but he found himself not minding one bit. He leaned into the touch, arms going around the troll as well.

“Are you purring?” Moomin blinked, pulling back for a moment. His eyes were wide and adoring. The mumrik swallowed hard and looked away for a moment. Thinking he had upset his friend, Moomin shook his head quickly. “It’s okay if you are! More than okay! It’s cute!”

Despite the cool spring breeze and the fact there were still a couple of patches of snow on the ground, Snufkin felt warm all over. When he finally dared to meet Moomin’s eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean forward, brushing his nose against Moomin’s. The troll’s eyes grew wide once more, but this time with question. By now, Moomin knew that Snufkin knew exactly what a Moomintroll kiss was. Snufkin could clearly see his face turn red and his fur puffed up a little bit. Moomintroll certainly looked lovely when he was flustered.

“Breathe, dove,” Snufkin said gently, paw cupping Moomin’s face. Perhaps Moomin hadn’t heard him wrong, then. He had sworn that Snufkin had called him dove before.

Moomin felt like he was going to melt! This was straight out of his most treasured dream! It took him a moment to find his words again.

“Did you mean to do that?” he asked, voice soft and timid.

“I did,” Snufkin nodded.

“Why?” Moomin asked. He wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Why did he kiss him? Why now? All he knew was that his heart felt entirely too full, but in the best way possible.

Snufkin hesitated before pulling the paper from his pocket. As he did, Moomin’s face became impossibly red.

“Oh! That! I-I didn’t mean—I mean, if you—oh, I’m so sorry,” he sputtered, nearly falling into the river with all his flailing.  
Snufkin’s smile slowly dropped. “You didn’t mean what you wrote?” he asked.

“I did!” Moomin shook his head. “Oh, you must think I’m so terrible! I’m breaking Snorkmaiden’s heart, and I kept this secret for so long. I didn’t even get to tell you in person! You found out from a letter I never intended to send!”

“I don’t think you’re terrible, Moomintroll,” Snufkin insisted. “And if you wanted to tell me in person, well,” his cheeks heated up once again. “I’m right here.”

Momin’s fur finally started to lie flat as he calmed down a bit. He had rewritten that letter so many times, trying to get it perfect. Now that it came down to the moment, all he could do was lean in and kiss the mumrik again. This time, it was a mumrik kiss. Their lips met in a clumsy, awkward fashion at first, but it was certainly worth it. Snufkin’s hat fell off as they pulled apart, making them both laugh.

“I really like you, Snufkin.”

“Is that so? I believe the letter said another word,” he teased.

“You’re terrible,” Moomin complained. His cheeks were still pink, but he was smiling. “Fine! I’m hopelessly in love with you. Better?”

“Better,” Snufkin agreed. “I’m hopelessly in love with you too, Moomintroll.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic in a very long time. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
